


Dib eats Cake

by Kaz_Xav_After_Dark (Trash_For_Ships)



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien Biology, Always remember to brush your teeth after sex, And pee. Don't forget to pee too, Dib is 18 and Zim is an alien space bug; don't get your knickers in a twist, Established Relationship, M/M, One-Shot, Tentacle Dick, ass eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_For_Ships/pseuds/Kaz_Xav_After_Dark
Summary: Exactly what you think it is. Dib enjoys some of Zim's cake.Written in an hour and proofread not at all. Special thanks to the Discord Squad for encouraging me to follow my horny dreams - you know who you are.Make love, not war; stream panini and ship zadr.





	Dib eats Cake

Zim, for all his shortness, is actually the perfect height for some things.

For example, he can get things off the lower shelves and out of the cupboards without Dib having to bend over to fetch them, which is very helpful on the mornings after they’ve spent the night on the couch, after they’ve fallen asleep while cuddling and marathoning every cheesy horror movie ever. 

On another memorable occasion, Zim hid himself _ in _ one of the lower cupboards, and burst out of it shouting at the top of his lungs, scaring Dib in the process, who was really just looking for the cereal. 

But the thing is, Zim is exactly the perfect height for _ this_. 

His legs, fully extended, just barely touch the floor, and they twitch intermittently, in time with his hands, which clench at the bedsheets. His antennae are pressed flat against his head, his eyes are screwed shut, and his front teeth worry at his lower lip. His back is arched, a sharp curve that Dib lazily traces with his eyes. Dib lets his eyes slip closed, presses his tongue further inside, and Zim gasps, jolting his lithe frame. 

Yes, Zim is the perfect height for Dib to bend him over the edge of the bed and eat his ass. 

Dib’s hands hold Zim’s cheeks apart for him to wedge a mouth in between, and damn, if Zim doesn’t have some meat on that thin, lithe frame of his. Dib might not believe it if his hands weren’t literally full.

He can’t help the pleased chuckle that rumbles through him at the thought, and thus reverberates into Zim’s skin. Zim turns his head and gives him a half-hearted glare over his shoulder, a magenta blush high on his cheeks when he asks, “Something funny, Dib-beast?” It sounds very much like he’s trying to mask the pleasure he’s feeling and sound like his normal, arrogant-to-a-fault self, and Dib decides that that simply won’t do.

Dib doesn’t respond verbally, instead choosing to shove his tongue inside Zim as far as he can, which is response enough for Zim. He tenses up and claws at the sheets. He glares at Dib over his shoulder again before he turns his head back, and, just to show that he truly isn’t _ that _mad at his partner, arches his back further and pushes his ass back into Dib’s hold, giving him the go-ahead to do as he pleases. 

Dib, naturally, obliges him and starts licking and sucking at Zim’s insides again, hoping to pull another needy moan or throaty whine from him, using nothing but his very talented mouth. 

Dib swirls his tongue as best he can, actually _ feels _ it brush against a place that he knows very well from previous bedroom adventures with Zim - that little spot that makes Zim go wild, and he wickedly decides to tease it as much as Zim will let him. He jabs the tip of his tongue against it, presses and holds it there until the trembling of Zim’s hips dislodges him. And then he tries again, and when Zim whines at him to either hurry the hell up or do something else with his tongue, Dib withdraws his tongue and licks coquettishly around Zim’s rim, then plunges his tongue back inside and revels in the choked little noise that Zim makes.

Zim, beginning to feel a little desperate, tries to rut his hips against the bed, chasing pressure and pleasure wherever he can find it, but Dib tightens his grip on Zim’s hips and holds him up, off the bed and on his tongue instead. Zim practically shakes in Dib’s hold, still trying to get some pressure on his aching tentacle, but Dib is merciless and his grip is stronger than Zim’s resolve. 

“D- Diiiiib,” Zim whines, in that tone that always betrays just how close he is. Dib can’t help the way that his lips curl into a smile against Zim’s heated skin, and he redoubles his efforts, focusing wholeheartedly on bringing his lover to completion.

Zim cooperates with him now, trying to press his hips back onto Dib’s face whenever he parts for even a moment to gasp for air. His moans warble and tremble in his throat, and Dib responds with muffled grunts and groans that only serve to shake Zim up inside even further. 

Dib’s drool mixes with the slick pouring from him and drips down onto the bedspread, but neither of them have the capacity to care in the moment. Zim shudders and hisses and moans brokenly as Dib continues his ministrations, and then his pleasure reaches that glorious peak, and everything whites out as Zim comes, hard, on Dib’s tongue. He cries out, tossing his head back and shuddering as his orgasm crashes through him, the pleasure rushing through every nerve and leaving him blessedly warm and satiated. 

Zim slumps against the bed, his antennae twitching as his chest heaves, his eyes half-lidded and faraway. Dib, feeling a sense of completion in his own right, ignores the throbbing of his own erection to pull Zim further onto the bed and cuddle with him, sharing the afterglow. Dib peppers Zim’s face with kisses, which Zim tolerates and responds to with contented purring, until he remembers precisely where Dib’s mouth has just been.

“Your mouth is gross,” Zim softly complains, still finding his voice as he turns his head away so that Dib won’t keep kissing him with his disgusting maw. “You need to go brush and get the germs off before I’ll kiss you.” 

“I will, Zim, I will, just one more, please?” Dib pleads, chasing Zim’s flushed face with his lips. Zim squirms and wiggles in his hold, but does, eventually, give in and let Dib give him another kiss on the cheek, albeit with a good, hearty eye roll to go along with it.

“Go brush,” Zim repeats, pushing halfheartedly at his shoulder. Dib chuckles and gives him one last kiss on the forehead before he goes to the bathroom. As he brushes, a dopey grin on his face, he remembers a certain something sitting on the kitchen counter downstairs, still cooling from the oven. He finishes brushing and tries to get most of the taste of mint out of his mouth before he scoots downstairs and into the kitchen.

Dib returns to the bedroom to find Zim nestled in the blankets and propped up on the pillows, with a space next to him for Dib to snuggle into. In Dib’s hands are two small plates, two forks, and two slices of cake.


End file.
